The Cradle
by Kurasaa
Summary: Humanity is on its knees in the war against the Covenant. Even with their new found allies, Earth stands no chance against her enemies. However, a lost artifact discovered on Earth may change the tides of war forever. This is the legacy of Spartan-A037.
1. The Eternal Dream 00

**Prologue**

**1600 Hours, June 15, 2537 (Military Claendar)**

**Aboard Covenant Cruiser **_**Divine's Grace**_**, Location Unknown**

**(14 years before Halo's Discovery)**

The ship was silent. Even though the SPARTANS had already killed several members of her crew by vaulting them into the vacuum of space, the ship was too quiet.

One of the four SPARTAN-IIIs looked around careful, always keeping an eye on his motion sensor just in case some Covenant decided to take the wrong route that day. He was their commander of this mission, and he made a promise once to the man to being them all home. This man who made his life a living hell was also the trainer who made him into a SPARTAN, Lieutenant Ambrose.

The green armored superhuman code number was SPARTAN-A037, but he was also known as Richard by his close friends. He stood six feet tall, even without his armor on, in his left hand he hold tightly onto his battle-scarred MA5K Assault Rifle, in his right hand, a FENIX nuclear mine missile, a deadly combination.

A sudden crash behind the Commander made him glance to his right, but lucky it wasn't a Covenant.

The sound came from one of his comrades placing down her FENIX mine. SPARTAN-A074 set the bombs throughout the light-bluish hull. Her name was Mary or at that least that was the name, they gave her. The Commander's opinion about was very simple, she was the one who made big explosions and that was the last thing thousands of Covenant would ever see. He had another opinion about her too, but that was usually kept to himself.

The Spartan Commander looked around again to see both SPARTAN-A024's and SPARTAN-A157's outlines appear on his HUD displays covering the two hallways that were the only escape routes. Tim and Jack respectively nodded at their commander.

With the a few brief moments to spare, the commander reflected back on his three comrades and how they met seven years ago. All that remained at the time were the three hundred children who had passed Lieutenant Ambrose's first insane test. They were doing their thirty laps around the "entire" compound, which was a total of three miles each, when Mary, who was leading the pack, unexpectedly collapsed from exhaustion. He ran up to her and carried her until she cold lean on him just for support. When Tim and Jack were overlapping them, Jack started calling her weak and useless. He punched Jack breaking his nose. It took three hours for the bleeding to stop. Tim had to carry Jack for the remaining laps.

The next day, Jack came into the Red Barracks and beat the living hell out of him. When questioned what happen by Ambrose, Richard replied that he fell down the steps of the barracks. Jack surprised by this, apologized to him for his actions, and for the rest of their training, Jack was his best friend. When they were finally assigned to their firing teams years later, he and Jack were surprised to be together. Mary and Tim were added bonus because Mary was always the quiet one, but had an explosive temper while Tim prided himself for his motto of one shot, one kill.

Although they all wore a full suit of Semi-Powered Infiltration armor (called SPI for short), its hardened plates and photo-reactive panels could only take a few glancing blows before failing. The shields were almost non-exist compared to the MJOLNIR suits that the SPARTAN-II wore, so they relied heavy on their active camouflage that the SPI could produce with reversed engineered Covenant stealth technology to protect them. The only advantage they had was the Covenant would not be looking for enemies using their own equipment.

With the success of SPI suits, they had made it this far without detection. However, that would change incredibly quickly. As Mary set the last nuclear mine, alarms started to go off inside the Covenant vessel. Even though the Spartans could not understand the alien languages directly, their helmets were equipped with an automatic translation program, so the message was very clear, get the hell out of their now.

The Commander looked back at his motion sensor to thirty red dots heading their way from the right hallway. He made a swift hand gesture pointing toward the left passage and three green pings appeared on his HUD signifying their acknowledgement of his order. They quickly run down the left hallway taking many sudden turns and spins until the Commander raised his hand telling them to stop.

He did not like it. It was too easy. In all his missions, never was there one this unproblematic. He checked his motion sensor once again before giving Jack the go-ahead sign. A green light flashed on his HUD, and Spartan-A157 approached the blue airlock. However, the Commander saw the outline of cloaked three Elites running toward his comrade. He tried to yell something, but his light cut-down MA5K rifle fired first, killing one the Elite instantly while bring the other two out of cloaked. However, by firing, his SPI suit stealth unit flickered and then died, leaving him exposed. The red Elite raised its needler and wasted no time unloading its clip at him.

The two Elite forgot about Jack at the door so he used to his advantage. Jack grabbed the second Elite's head and with all of his Spartan strength easily twisted it a total of a hundred-eighty degrees. The red Elite noticed his companion's limp body hit the cold metal floor and blindly fired his needler in the general direction of Jack. Mary and Tim fired their MA5K rifles at the red Elite with deadly accurate precision. The Elite dropped dead in seconds. The Commander breathed a sigh of relief as he checked himself for injuries and found none, even though he had a close call with one needle that attempted to break through his frail shield.

Then something on his HUD got his attention. Jack's vitals dropped and he was close to flat lining. He immediately jumped to action and appeared next to his life-long friend. Not only did one needle break through his shield, but also seven of them were embodied inside his armor causing massive blood-loss and severe damage to his internal organs. Mary gripped the Bio-foam and pumped Jack's inside with it but the damage was already done. His vitals dropped again and Jack passed away in a matter of a few seconds. Both Tim and Mary remained silence as their commander cursed himself for his own stupidity.

His swore that Jack's death would be avenged someday, but not here, not now. He had a squad to protect. The commander pulled himself together and motioned for the team to move forward. As they checked and cleared the next room of a few grunts, the commander checked Jack's vitals one last time before activating Jack's self-detonate device. The Commander knew if he looked back now, he would never leave Jack by himself. They would vanish together, and no one would never know, but he could not abandon his remaining squad.

When the airlock closed behind him, an explosion caused both Tim and Mary to stare at the door, but they knew what happen and didn't need to ask. The three Spartans then quietly advanced toward the exit, the same one they came in by. The hallway was small but all three super sized humans could effortlessly make it through it. However, the Covenant had another plan. Behind them, between three to five hundred Elites, Grunts, and Jackels appeared baring the heavy weapons needed to kill the three young Spartans.

The Commander tried to scream for his squad to make a break for the door, but Tim roared something on the comlink and charged the Covenant. A sudden crash could be heard as four Hunters darted from the sides and caught Tim if their cross fire. Nothing remained but a few pieces of scorched SPI plates.

The Commander gripped Mary by the wrist and used Tim's sacrifice so they make it. As they hit the door, Mary quickly hacked into the Covenant system and opened the hatch. The Commander was about jumped when something pushed him suddenly. He glanced back see Mary's body in the path of hundreds of flaming hot blots of plasma. She pursed the release button and the door closed leaving her inside. Without anything to push against, the Commander helpless drifted away from the Covenant vessel.

A few seconds later, but felt like a century to the commander, the vessel exploded in a ball of light and turned into a giant ball of vapor. The Commander cried inside in his helmet as he wished he died with his team on that damn vessel.

Safety inside the UNSC transport _Viper_, he knew he had to live. They allowed him to continuing living for some reason, but he tried to remember. Only darkness started to engulf. Who was he? What was he? Nothing. Not his name, his mission, his comrades. Everything was gone.

All that would come to his darkening mind was, "I am a Spartan."

With that last thought, the _Viper_ continued to go through the vastness of space as his mind become one with the void.

A/N: Not much to say but that I hope you enjoyed. Leave reviews, good or bad. I do not care. Also as a disclaimer, I do own Halo, I own Microsoft, and Bungie, that is why I work my sorry ass for six dollars an hour at a fast food place. Com'on. Disclaimers are so pointless. If you are putting it on a FANFICTION site, yes you do not own it.

P.S. Thanks to everyone who helped. Enjoy.

* * *

Disclaimer: If I wasn't clear earlier…I do not own the rights to Halo or Halo 2. Any characters I use from them are the property of Bungie and Microsoft. Everyone else belongs with me.

Covenant Terms for the non-Halo-ers

Covenant-Human

Sangheili - Elite  
Unggoy - Grunt  
Lekgolo - Hunter  
Jiralhanae - Brute  
Kig-Yar - Jackal  
Yanme'e - Drone  
Huragok - Engineer  
Prophet – Prophet


	2. Old Soldiers 01

**Chapter One: Old Soldiers**

_**0447 HOURS, NOVEMBER 22, 2552 (MILITARY CALENDAR)**_

_**TERRAN SYSTEM, ORBIT EARTH, UNSC VESSEL "Hope"**_

The horrendous smell of death cling to him like a passionate lover. No matter how many times he had purge himself of the blood, venom, and flesh of his victims, the grossly odor remained. The man was used to this condition like many other marines of his platoon. They were the _Angels of Death_ and carried the title well.

Their real call sign was actually "Sigma Sixty-Four," of the Orbital Drop Shock Troopers Third Regiment chapter. Even some of the higher-ups were beginning to forget to follow standard protocol, excusing it as a way to keep morale up, but Second Lieutenant Joshua Stewards could have cared less as long he and his men got to kill some Covenant that had plagued his race for the past twenty-seven years of his life.

However, his undying hatred was being deprived at that moment with their current station onboard the United Nations Space Command transport vessel _Hope_. _Hope_ was among hundreds of other UNSC ships, even if it was the least armed. Its purpose was different than the rest of fleet, acting more as the orbital platform for the deployment of marines then as a cruiser. Unlike the rest of the fleet assembled around the remains of _Neo-York _Space Station, it did not bear scars of engaging the Covenant Armada.

The war bend horde of aliens that had and still were attacking the UNSC were called Covenant for they were a collection of different races following the words of their holy prophets and the temptation of completing their glorious Great Journey. Fortunately for humanity, not all was well in the Covenant.

Several weeks earlier, the Covenant broke into two factions, most staying with their gods, while the rest joined with the surviving Elite High Council.

But even this truth did not hide the grim fact that the UNSC had been soundly defeated. In space, Man's Last Offensive, as it was sourly nicknamed, was their last attempted to assault the Covenant fleet, but the attack ended gravely. Only half of the original ships assemble for the strike force survived the first twelve minutes of combat.

Even humanity's hold on their own homeworld was withering away too, along with their will to continue the fight. Crashing losses, demoralizing tactical failures, and the lack of firepower were just a few variables in their thrashing. Most of the men and women that made up the Third Regiment were in dental of the plain truth, humanity was not going to survive.

However, Lieutenant Stewards was too busy getting ready for their possible last mission to be bogged down by misleading ideals or prejudge of their current situation. He was realistic man, a person who would call uncle before he was too serious hurt, but he was also a man of purpose and if he and his men had to die, so be it, as long as they died living up to their name.

Lieutenant Stewards was also a punctual man, and his platoon was already five minutes late, still gearing up in the armory deep inside the belly of _Hope_. Four of his privates were playing bloody knuckles in full ODST powersuits, similar to the armor used by the legendary Spartans but lacked the protective energy shield and advance tactical displays. Another two privates were flirting with some of staff, while the remaining men threw knifes at each other attempting to scare each other.

Fortunately, his second in command, Sergeant Michael Jenkins got to his men first, "Damnit you fuckin maggots, move it. Move it! Move it!!," he screamed at the marines, "McKinley get your sorry ass over here and away from that blonde. Brothers Grim get your fire teams organized before I organize them into enemy crossfire."

"Harley," the large man sighed and place his right hand on marine's shoulder, "Harley I know you don't get a lot of action with the ladies, but you got to let this one go, she too hot for you."

"Jenkins," Private Angel Harley whispered before punching her superior in the stomach, "asshole, I'm not some sick-o lesbian like you. God, I'm the center of all your jokes."

"Apparently so," the Sergeant gasped out. That comment earned him a kick between the legs.

"Harley, before I report you for attacking a superior, get to that God forsaken briefing room," Lieutenant Stewards yelled not just at the disobedient private, but also the entire platoon. "You're the best the UNSC has to offer and all you can do is goof off like some college brats. Get to that room before I have Jenkins drag your dead body there for me," he pauses, "Is that understood marines."

"Sir, yes sir," was the only reply.

"That's good to hear, now move it!" It was truly amazing on how quickly people will do something when they had motivation. Twenty seconds later, the armory was deserted; even the military staff who did not want to get in the war path of the Lieutenant from hell.

"**The Ninth Age of Reclamation"  
"**_**Final Judgement" Archangel-Class Battleship**_**  
Orbiting Earth  
November 22, 2552:: Sol Relative Time**

In the center of the blight violet chamber, stood a six feet tall Sangheili or Elites as the Humans had rightful named them so. The Sangheili's proud stance was only a mask to cover up the feelings of disgrace he was burden with. His memories ran wild, unchecked inside his mind like the raging ocean below as he slowly recollected on his last mission.

The reptilian alien gracefully slide his right hand across his smooth face as if to remove his oversized helmet but only to stop as his hand pasted his cheekbone. A sapphire finger of the alien followed a thin line that started from his lip that continued all the way behind his ear. The abnormally large scar seemed to have a life of its own as hot white pain shoot throughout his body from the memory of the traitor came back. The ambush, the death of his loyal men, and the explosion all flashed back in an instant.

The pure white-armored Sangheili removed his hand from the scar hoping that might end the pain. However, the unnatural pain only intensified along with the excruciating memories until the alien couldn't stand it anymore. The few brief moments of pain from the scar mysteriously stopped only to be replaced by another great pain. The creature still shaking from the original attack attempted to trace the new source of pain. The Sangheili slowly looked down at his hand only to realize his own fingers had dug deep into the soft flesh of his palm. Purple blood slowly seeped down the outside of his fist. The injury was minor to any normal Sangheili on board the transport, but made it useless for the upcoming battle.

Another Sangheili standing next to him wearing the same color armor expect it had black outlining took a short glance toward her commander and noticed the bleeding hand, "Ship Commander Cu'kar 'Tamarra, your hand! What happened?!"

The Commander replied coldly to his subordinate, "My hand is of little importance, Sub Commander Gai'shi." His bloodshot eyes were like daggers staring at her. The Sub Commander did something most others Sangheili would not do their superiors, stare directly right back into their onyx eyes.

The Sub Commander unsatisfied with her commander's answer, "Ship Commander, you still should get that injury taken care of." Commander Gai'shi apparently had more to say, but the Ship Commander did not intend for her to undermine him anymore.

"Remember our fallen Brothers and Sisters at the Forerunner Ring! Remember those who give their lives so some may live! They would be disappointed to see us complaining about a simple flesh wound!" yelled Ship Commander. The glowing eyes from Gai'shi told him that she wanted to push the issue further but bowed her head in respect for the truth in his blunt statement.

Cu'kar glared at the younger Sangheili with disgust and slowly walked away from her. He blamed the arrogant warrior, that mission, and mostly himself for his foul mood. Really, he didn't want to be angry at Sub Commander Gai'shi for they had served many years together. They had both fight for position of Major during their short time at the academy, Cu'kar barely won with the skin of his forty-eight teeth. They had gain a respect for each other that only true warriors of the Sangheili could understand.

He trusted her with his life and she in turn probably did the same with him, but she was just another unconfident fool among thousands of others he meet in the passed few cycles who didn't understand his true feelings.

When Cu'kar was sure that his Second wasn't looking, the white Sangheili placed his wound hand back onto his scar. He didn't care that blood from his injury was now dripping down his long face. Few understood the importance of this scar to Ship Commander Cu'kar. It was not like their technology couldn't remove it; really it would only take a few seconds of patience and pain. He choose to keep the scar as a constant reminder to himself and his warriors their betrayal from Covenant.

Trying to rid himself of the memories, Cu'kar paced up and down the narrow alleyways of his bridge. He glanced around the command deck of the "_Final Judgment_" and let out a painful sigh. He missed the luxury of his former command, one of the Covenant's most prized ships, _The Divine's Grief_.

The ship was one of the lead Capital Ships of the Covenant Amanda, second only to _The Truth and Reconciliation,_ carrying some of the most powerful weapons ever to exist in the Covenant. _Divine's Grief_ was part of a battle cluster in charge of the protection of the Prophet's personal warships. He missed that certain glow that would radiate from the ship's hull as he past stars and supernovas.

Ship Commander Cu'kar then felt another knot form in his stomach. Before the Prophet's betrayal of the Sangheili, the ship was given to a Jiralhanae Chief named Toligar. Even among his race of ape-like brutes, he was massive beast. The thought of the Jiralhanae stealing his precious ship made his blood boil, but to make an insult to injury, when the Civil War began, Toligar turned the guns of the _Divine Grief_ on her sister ships and massacred them. Before the survivors of the Sangheili Battle Cluster could recover, Chief Toligar safety escaped in a ball of light.

Again attempting to leaves his tainted thoughts, he glanced around the chamber. This time, he noticed a small Unggoy in charge of their communications listening to the Battle Net. The small creature was stoutly nodding its head and made many comments into his headset that were too quiet for the Sangheili hear.

Ship Commander Cu'kar walked toward the weak alien and stand dominantly over it. "Report," he said to Unggoy who now just noticed the Sangheili.

"Well, umm…" the creature was still listening to Battle Net.

"Well," Cu'kar said impatiently to the SpecOps Unggoy.

"Me have bad news," the creature wished it hadn't said that.

"What?! What do you mean bad news?!"

"Me was listening as they told me to. And High Co..Co..uncil have a message for you," the Unggoy shouted.

"And how long ago was this message given to you," Cu'kar's anger building with every word from the creature's mouth.

"Two units ago, Me had good talk with Jan and, well, em, me in trouble." With that said, the Unggoy bolted out of the communications chair. But in its mad rush, it forgot to unplug his headset, and was quickly yanked back. It landed on its back and franticly tried to remove the headgear.

The Ship Commander picked up the small alien by its throat and pressed its soft body against the wall.

"No hurt. No hurt. No hurt me. Me did wrong. Me sorry. No hurt," the Unggoy cried as the grip Cu'kar had on the flail creature tighten and threaten to cut the precious flow of methane gas to its lungs.

Unexpectedly, a hand reached out from gathering mob of aliens and divided the Commander from the Unggoy. The black alien did not waste any time to create as much distance between itself and Cu'kar.

The Commander turned his lizard-like head toward the intruder and saw it was his Second, Gai'shi. The Black armor Sangheili said to her superior, "Leave the pathetic creature alone. It was only telling you what it was told to tell you. If you let this small of a thing bother you, maybe you should have never left the _Divine Grief_."

Before thinking, his fist met her face with enough force to crush a human. Everyone in the ship went dead silent. No one dare breath as the awkward silence continued until the Second slowly got off the ground and presented herself before the Commander. The Sub Commander lower left mandible jaw was most likely broken but she dared not show weakness in front of enraged Commander. Even though Gai'shi was a female, she stood with all the courage and unyielding faith of any male.

"Forgive me and my rash comments. They will not happen again," the Second said steadily but slurred all the endings of her words because of her broken jaw. The Commander's instincts wanted him to strike again but then his reasoning kick in. She wasn't doing this because she felt sorry for her actions or regretted them either but because there was a chain of command they all had to follow. Their lives depended on their leader's abilities to think and grasp the situation.

"Carry On, Second," he said coldly attempting to hide his remorse for his rush behavior. The Second smiled as best as any Sangheili could do with a broken jaw knowing the Commander was now back to normal.

"And Second, get that jaw taken care of." The Sub-Commander saluted but before she turned around. "Commander, get that hand taken care of too." The Commander then returned the salute.

The Sub-Commander pleased with herself turned around and headed toward a purple Sangheili who already pulled out a medical kit. 'Gai'shi, if I didn't make that promise…,' Cu'kar thought to himself. She maybe a pain-in-the-ass for him, but she is the only who keeps him sane. Maybe she did understand him.

The pleasant train of thoughts came to abrupt end as he turned toward the SpecOps Commutations Unggoy who was still hiding behind the group of Lekgolos onboard the Phantom. "Unggoy, relay the message to my private chambers and make sure this does not happen again." The creature swiftly fled back to the control panel and barked the Sangheili request into the Battle Net.

The Commander now relieved and pleased with himself, started to stare into each of his warrior as he made his way toward the back of the ship where currently his Second was being treated for her jaw. They ranged from the common blue-armored Watchmen to the highly respected SpecOps Sangheili proudly wearing their black armor. He saw in each of them courage, valor, honor…then he saw Shiji.

He was a pillar of strength that the Ship Commander could rely on when things got nasty, like on the Forerunner Ring. The young Sangheili warrior had proved himself when others would have fled at the horrors they experienced. He owned his life my times to Shiji and his strange comrade, Buka. Without them, very few Sangheilis would have left Delta Halo.

Cu'ar still remembered the first time he meet the warrior. How could he forget? He run into the Commander twice before getting onboard and to top it off, a Lekgolo that accompanied the Sangheili came aboard his vessel even though it was assigned a different transport. The commander didn't have the patience or the time to force the Lekgolo to leave. He also remembered it because the Third Arbiter to the Prophets had the same name. 'What an uncommon name for a Sangheili with so little backbone. Not that that name would give him any honor,' thought Cu'kar to himself, but still very unusual.

As the Commander passed Shiji, he patted his shoulder, a symbol of their friendship. But again, Cu'kar lost himself in thought of the past.

Unknowingly to the Cu'kar as he made his way back toward the rear of the ship, a careless Unggoy stepped into the Commander's path as he past the large group of Unggoys. As if the entire thing was planned out, Cu'kar fell from his slumber of thought into the cold metal of the bridge. The green Unggoy who had tripped the white Sangheili quickly begged for his life and to spare his comrades from his wrong doing.

Expect for the Unggoys who were all fearful for their lives, every alien was doing their human equivalent to laughing. Even the Lekgolo who rarely spoke to others outside their own eel-like race were laughing. Most of aliens immediately stopped expect for Gai'shi who just laughed until the Commander was sitting next to her waiting for the healer to get to him.

Disclaimer: I own Bungie, Halo, and Microsoft…Com'on, if you believed that, hi, look gullible written on the ceiling. As I was saying, I own very few things, not even the computer I used to write this. I would like it if you didn't steal my character for I have put many hours into creating and designing them. If you just have to use one of them, please tell me before you rob me. Thank you and enjoy.

This is also one of my first fanfictions, so be forgiving of grammar mistakes and well, my graceful editing skills. So don't be surprised when this gets updated a lot just because I'm fixing a previous chapter. Be patient and I'll try to post a new chapter every two weeks. Sorry, I'm busy with life.

Sangheili - Elite  
Unggoy - Grunt  
Lekgolo - Hunter  
Jiralhanae - Brute  
Kig-Yar - Jackal  
Yanme'e - Drone  
Huragok - Engineer  
Prophet – Prophet

(Just some helpful notes for the uninformed)


End file.
